


Eager

by mortuus_lingua



Series: Eager [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Arthur is a voyeur, M/M, Merlin is a tattoo artist, Multi, No really - PORN, Porn, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-19 08:44:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mortuus_lingua/pseuds/mortuus_lingua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The first time Arthur sees him, it’s in an amateur porn short that's going viral on gay websites."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eager

Eager

 

The first time Arthur sees him, it’s in an amateur porn short that's going viral on gay websites. Arthur’s nominally bisexual, but he finds gay porn more stimulating than most hetero, so he keeps an eye on his favorite websites.

This one short is called “Dorm Threesome,” but it doesn’t take long for Arthur to rename it “Affable, Eager and Serious” in his head, and later on his computer.

 

There are three men in a tiny college dorm room, and one of them, invisible, is holding a regular personal video recorder on the other two, a skinny, black-haired waif with milk-white skin sitting on the edge of a small bed, and a fit jock with long dark hair falling into his eyes and the beginnings of a roguish beard and moustache standing in front of him. The boy is completely naked, and his companion is wearing jeans and a t-shirt. 

This is not an unusual beginning for porn, although the dorm room and the low-def video recorder are. Those lend a sort of reality to the video. No one would believe that these young men were actors in any sense of the word, and the photographer, definitely not a professional. 

A soft sound from the cameraman, and the two men look over at the camera. The jock grins affably and says, “Right then,” and turns to the boy on the edge of the bed, who blinks and then smiles sweetly up at him. 

Arthur, seeing that smile, feels a thump in his chest, a shock. The boy’s eyes are startling dark blue, more obvious when his face flushes and his smile relaxes, and his cheekbones are blade-sharp. That smile seems so innocent at first that Arthur fears the boy is being taken advantage of, that he doesn’t know what he’s getting into, but that all flies out the window when he reaches out large, long-fingered hands and starts to open Affable’s flies with the expertise of long practice.

The cameraman hums and focuses in on Eager’s face and hands, and then remembers to move over to the side; the camera wobbles, and Arthur snorts derisively at the lack of finesse. He forgets about that when Eager pulls out Affable’s cock and begins worshipping it with his hands, then his lips, nose, tongue and finally his throat, all the while with an expression best reserved for women with chocolate or men with steak. This boy loves cocksucking, and it’s such a turn-on that Arthur finds himself rubbing himself watching the obvious pleasure in it. He wonders if the boy likes being fucked equally as well. 

Oh, he does.

 

The cameraman’s murmurs and zooming out show that Affable is taking off his shirt. He’s ripped and lean with wide shoulders and cut hipbones, with honey-toned skin. He gets his hand into Eager’s black messy hair and following the bobbing head, staring down with heavy, dark eyes. Arthur is a bit turned on by that, too. Affable is a natural, dominant top, invested in how his boy is enjoying himself, and in no hurry. He smiles at the point where Eager backs off when he’s gone too far and gagged (even that’s a bit sexy) and takes the time to take off the rest of his clothes while his boy is staring and wiping off his chin. 

Affable’s cock is a nice size, not too much on either side, and so stiff it hardly moves as he does. Eager is half-hard, and looking to be rather hung if he keeps it up. Arthur wonders briefly about the cameraman, as the file was titled “threesome,” but he lets that questions fade.

Affable leans down to kiss his boy, then slaps him on the flank, a clear signal to turn over and present himself. Arthur gulps and squeezes hard on his own erection. He’s so rarely this turned on by porn, but this is something else. As Eager turns over, Arthur sees that he’s tattooed on his right hip, two dragons entwined, one red and one white. Arthur knows his jaw is dropping at the sight, but he can’t stop himself; it’s not the same as his own, but it’s close enough. Arthur’s tattoo is of a single heraldic dragon on the opposite hip, the Welsh red dragon with a bit more detail and wearing a crown that he had had added later when he’d succeeded in his father’s company.

Affable is sliding on a condom and the cameraman is shifting his position to get right down behind him, to get the golden shot of the cockhead going in. Affable is still admirably unhurried, fingering his boy with lube. Eager starts making soft sounds, and the cameraman hurriedly shows the boy’s face over Affable’s shoulder. The boy’s eyes are wide and soft, and he’s panting for it.

Fuck. 

Then Affable slides in, slow and sure, until his nice round balls are tucked up against the boy’s perineum. Eager is whining softly and does a little impatient wiggle, getting a slap for his pains. The slap jiggles his ass and Affable slaps the other side, just for effect. Then he grabs on and starts fucking in and out; his hands look dark against the boy’s pale hips. The boy is down on his elbows, his back a perfect, submissive bow, and Arthur gives up and starts jacking off in time to Affable’s long thrusts. 

The cameraman gives all the standard angles – from down and behind, to see cock fucking right into the ass, from the side and sometimes from above, showing Eager’s blissed out expression in profile, and Affable’s lazy smirk as he quickens the pace, pulling Eager back on his cock with every thrust. Eager’s pants have turned into amazed cries.

It’s over too soon; seems Affable can’t take it, and Arthur truthfully does not blame him. He sighs through his climax and pulls out, then makes a gesture to the cameraman. The camera jerks as it’s transferred over and finally Arthur can see who’s been videotaping this whole time.

The man is gorgeous. His dark hair is long like Affable’s, but manages to be thick, wavy and perfect. His skin is a dark caramel and when he slides his clothes off, he’s clearly much larger than either of his companions, both in muscle mass and in cock-size, which is uncut and huge. Arthur gulps, feeling both envious and eager to see how the boy is going to handle this new development. 

Cameraman doesn’t smile or grin; he’s a bit more serious in expression, and he lacks the casual topiness of Affable. Arthur names him Serious in his head and watches as he helps Eager turn over on his back.

Eager is flexible in a way Arthur’s only ever seen in circuses and porn. He easily spreads his legs open and back as Serious kneels on the bed and slides into him while he’s still open. Affable’s camerawork is pretty spectacular in that regard – he focuses on Eager’s pink, slick hole which is loose and open until Serious gets his cockhead in and mounts. Eager’s first words are “oh god!” as he’s bent and split in two. The camera takes a moment to move from Serious’s big cock up to Eager, whose eyes are closed. His mouth is open, his head tilted back. Serious pushes his feet to his ears so he can kiss those lovely, plush lips as he continues to piston in. 

Affable circles around the two of them, the bed squeaking in protest. Serious also has ink, a long knight’s effigy, incredibly detailed and only in black lines, which takes up his entire left flank. The knight is holding a lance in one hand and a blank shield in the other. Something tells Arthur that the shield will eventually be filled in. 

Arthur wonders about these young men. The cheaply paneled dorm room is hyper realistic and none of their clothes are in any way high end. They handle and accept each other in a way that seems to indicate long acquaintance. Affable has the manner of someone who’s used to handling Eager physically, and from his camerawork, he’s interested in Eager’s reactions to being fucked. Arthur would have thought they might be boyfriends until he sees Serious, who is driving Eager wild with his kisses and who is moving his hips and working himself into the boy, then reaches down and starts jacking him. There is more emotional care between these two.

Arthur has been with men since public school. He’s not usually interested in being fucked, but he’s penetrated enough. He has never seen a man enjoy being fucked as much as this boy does. Serious has him mewling and crying, his thrusts so powerful that Eager’s body is being rhythmically driven back into the bedding. He’s not as passive as Arthur first assumed; he grabs at Serious’s head and back as he gets closer, and the last thing he says before he comes is “yes, just like that.”

Arthur comes the same time that Eager does and sits there for fifteen minutes, staring at his computer screen long after the video finishes.

Later that night, he plays it again, and he stares at Eager the whole time. It takes five different viewings to Arthur to notice the tattoo on Affable’s hip, a green man face.

The download of that video is backed up on Arthur’s hard drive and follows him through several laptops, until his backup dies one winter, taking the video with it. When that happens, he finds the video has long since disappeared from the Net. By then, he’s memorized Eager in every detail, and measures his own lovers against the memory of the boy who surrendered himself to his own lovers so fervently. It’s unfair, but Arthur’s never been a man who settled for anything other than the best. Until he finds a lover who wants to be there with him so enthusiastically, he’ll wait.

 

The second time Arthur sees him, it’s four years later and in the window of a tattoo parlor, which is called Excalibur, and has been recommended to Arthur when his own tattoo artist moves overseas. He recognizes the high cheekbones and sinful mouth, although the photo is black and white and his hair has grown long and brushed stylishly forward. Under the photo, someone has handwritten in Old English font – “Merlin.”

As if in a dream, Arthur pushes the door open.


	2. Excalibur Tattoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Pardon. Arthur,” Arthur introduces himself, striding forward with his hand out. “Arthur Lafae.” 
> 
> Merlin takes the offered hand and shakes it decisively, although he wants to hit himself. “Yeah. My mum reads OK!; she yammers on about if she was 30 years younger and all that shite. Thanks for that.”
> 
> Arthur’s smile flashes out and Merlin feels himself flushing in response. Neither of them have let go of the handshake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably wouldn't have happened without the encouragement of AO3 readers, and in particular those lovely folk who commented and gave me the impression that a continuation would not go amiss.
> 
> No porn in this part, but very much a lead up to perviness, if it so pleases the readership.
> 
> Also, will take kindly to Brit-picking, as I am sadly not a speaker of the Queen's English. I can only return the favor if someone needs something Yank-picked (Yank-spanked? Yank-ranked? Yank-wanked?- is there an official word for making people spell arse as ass?).

Merlin hears the cheerful jingle of the front door, but he’s busying wiping down the ink-bed in the back, so he only listens with half an ear as Nina talks to a man with a posh voice, a voice that makes him want to go see what kind of face goes with that accent. It’s always disappointing, though; nice voices aren’t usually cultivated by gorgeous people, kind of like nice personalities. 

Nina is pretty good about not sharing her disdain with off-the-street gawkers, and she sounds neutral and cautious, which isn’t usual, as it’s near to closing, and she’s typically unhappy with last minute customers.

The front room is small, with only two empty chairs and a counter, but Merlin made sure that the art on the walls aren’t pictures of actual tattoos but of his own intricate flash designs in black, matte frames. Dragons, castles, and organic designs all assure his clientele they’re in the right place. On the front face of the counter, a local graffiti artist has painted Excalibur Tattoo around the form of a sword. It’s best to mix class with street art. He gets all sorts here because of the location and a growing reputation. 

He can imagine Nina behind the counter lazily flipping through the current issue of Tatowier. Her sleeve tattoo is a storm of cherry blossoms, vivid and striking, matching the pale bubblegum pink of her spiked hair. She’s the first thing most new customers see, and it’s deliberate. His work is on most of her body. Nina lives on a trust fund, but has guardians keeping an eye on how she spends it, so she works for a little money and a lot of ink; it’s her version of flipping the bird at a “proper” life, bless her.

The man hasn’t run off yet. “I’d like to see your sample books, if you don’t mind,” he replies to Nina’s flat overture. “My favorite artist moved out of the country, and I’m looking for another.”  
Merlin hears the two huge volumes that thump when they land on the counter. “Yeah? Who was it?” The man has her attention now. “Merlin’s pretty good at matching existing styles, just as long as he can do it in his own way.”

Merlin hears the pages being turned. “Mister Zed did the first and an addition; he recommended a few artists before he left.”

Merlin drops the sanitary cleaning wipe he’s been holding and his heart thumps. Mister Zed had sent him the information on several of his clients, the ones he felt would appreciate Merlin’s style. 

Clearly, Nina is thinking on the same lines. “Cool,” she says after a moment. “Excuse me.” She comes crashing through the door, barely missing braining Merlin as he stoops to pick up the cloth.

“Bloody fuck, Merlin,” she says, eyes wide. “I think this one is the real deal.”

“Which one?” he manages, holding his breath. He and Nina have stared at the email and attachments sent their way from Mister Zed when he’d closed up shop and forwarded his clients’ information to a few trusted friends in the community.

“I think he’s the crowned dragon. You have to see this bloke; he walks like the fucking prince of Wales, and I know I’ve seen his picture somewhere.”

Merlin gulps, nods, and shoos her out to the front again, straightening his shoulders and taking a deep breath. He won’t get his hopes up until he knows for sure. He’s only ever found Lancelot and Gwaine, and both of those back at university. He doesn’t want to live on false hope that this is the Arthur he’s been waiting for.

Merlin can see that a wide-shouldered man is looking at Lancelot’s knight effigy done in perfect black lines. Merlin’s proud of that early effort. 

“That looks even better in person,” Nina offers to the blond head bent over the book, having slid back behind the counter. She gives Merlin a nervous glance from the corner of her eye.

“I imagine it does,” the man replies, half-smiling. “Nice skin tone for black lines.” Merlin is staring at the man’s perfect dark jeans and swank t-shirt; the watch on his strong wrist is a very practical, very expensive TAGHeuer the like of which Merlin’s only ever seen on the back of posh magazines. 

“Exactly!” Nina laughs, nervously. 

He continues to flip through the book, through beautiful mythical creatures until he gets to the dragons, where he lingers over European heraldic beasts, fantasy fire-breathers, and Chinese serpentines. Merlin knows that they’re all amazing, realistic, and shaded in multiple hues. What he really needs is for the man to lift his head so he can finally see if he’s it, the real thing, or just another disappointing echo.

“Like what you see?” he asks, forcing a cheerful tone.

The blond raises his head to stare at him as he comes through the curtain; his expression blanks and then his jaw tightens. “Yes,” he says, and a smile comes out, and it’s like the whole room suddenly goes golden.  
Merlin is gobsmacked, and the breath seems to leave his lungs. Arthur Fucking Pendragon is standing in his tiny tattoo parlor, looking every inch the monarch he once was. He’s also wearing a strange expression, almost like recognition, but not the kind Merlin is currently feeling. 

He grins questioningly because Arthur hasn’t looked down at the book since the moment the Merlin asked him the question, and is in fact staring. 

“Pardon. Arthur,” Arthur introduces himself, striding forward with his hand out. “Arthur Lafae.” 

Merlin takes the offered hand and shakes it decisively, although he wants to hit himself. Of course, Lafae. Merlin knows the name, but he’s not interested in the financial or the gossip world, which is why he’s never seen his picture before. Leave it to Arthur to return as a CEO and not a pop singer; fuck his life. “Yeah. My mum reads OK!; she yammers on about if she was 30 years younger and all that shite. Thanks for that.”  
Arthur’s smile flashes out and Merlin feels himself flushing in response. Neither of them have let go of the handshake.

“Bloody hell,” Nina mumbles from behind the counter, turning and typing rapidly with two thumbs on her phone as if reporting a sudden natural disaster. She disappears behind the curtain. 

“Have we met?” Arthur asks quizzically; he glances down at their hands as if surprised that they’re still joined, and relaxes his fingers to slip from Merlin’s.

Merlin likes to imagine it’s done a bit reluctantly.

“No, we haven’t,” Merlin replies, leaning over the counter to take out his tablet computer. “But I think I’ve met your ink.” He opens his email client, scrolls down, and turns the screen. “A certain artist felt I should have his plans for you.” There is a drawing of Arthur’s tattoo, and with it drawings of a great sword surmounted by an intricate crown. 

“We talked about that idea, but I didn’t know he drew it out,” Arthur murmured, staring at the crown and sword. “So beautiful…”

Merlin is watching him closely, and does nothing to disguise his curiosity when Arthur looks up from the screen. “It’s meant for the back. It will be big.”

“I can afford it.”

Merlin slants him an amused look. Of course Arthur would think first of money. “That’s not my concern. Time and commitment are.”

“If you can do it, I can commit to it.” Arthur’s chin comes up, as if he’s been challenged.

Merlin studies Arthur’s face; he licks his lips and looks away. It isn’t right that he should be this attracted this suddenly, but he’s not surprised. Arthur has been in his dreams for as long as he’s lived. “I need to see your back, and I’ll want to alter the design a little.”

Arthur looks away, too, and shifts in a way that Merlin recognizes. He wants to laugh in relief; Arthur’s getting hard, here in his tattoo shop. It’s amazing. Arthur, in the meanwhile, glances at the book he was perusing. “I trust you; I like your work.”

Merlin can’t keep himself from smiling sweetly, and Arthur smiles back as if he can’t help it. Merlin’s heart thumps in his chest. “Well, then, come on back.”


	3. What Happens When You Ignore Health and Safety Regulations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What is this, a sure thing?” Merlin demands, calling up a bit of indignation at this scam artist.
> 
> Arthur’s smirk has dwindled to a smile. “The hour-long handshake was my first clue.”
> 
> Merlin pouts; he’s flushing from the embarrassment of being so obvious. Arthur had probably figured him out within a minute of meeting him.
> 
> “My god, the mouth on you,” Arthur groans, staring and chewing his own lips distractedly. 
> 
> Merlin squirms a bit, a flash of heat in his groin distracting him. He grins at this and leans in. Oh, no, my friend, he mentally chuckles. This mouth … on you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, enough of that thoughtful character development. I know why you're here.
> 
> PORN. Unapologetic. Don't look for sensible decision-making here.

Merlin tries not to stare at Arthur, in his little back room, pulling a pristine Burberry t-shirt over his head.  
The man is an Adonis, and Merlin is almost squirming just watching the blond, ruffled head emerge from the tangle of fabric after a mouth-watering appetizer of defined pecs and broad shoulders. This is not a new sensation, but the lust that sweeps through Merlin is ten times anything he’s felt before.

Merlin swallows past his dry throat at a half-naked Arthur looking at him expectantly. “Right,” he croaks, “let’s take a look, shall we?” He gestures to the ink-bed, adjusted to its flattest position. He rubs a shaky finger across his lower lip as Arthur settles himself face down. He’s never had to fight this hard to keep things at a professional level before, but he’s severely distracted by Arthur’s smooth, perfect back, curved spine and firm ass displayed perfectly by dark-washed denim.

He forces himself to map out the design in his mind’s eye, across the skin’s surface. Arthur’s skin is a smooth, golden canvas, incomparably perfect. “Well,” he murmurs. “The spines of the crown should begin at the top of your shoulder blades, but the tip of the sword could end at the waist, or lower.” He eyes the waistband of Arthur’s jeans. “Can you tell me where your existing ink is?”

Arthur reaches back and curves his left hand around his left hip. 

Merlin chews his lip; his own tattoo is exactly in the same place on the opposite hip. “The two tattoos won’t interfere with each other, then,” he says to himself.

Arthur sits up and swings his legs over to the side. His blue eyes are on Merlin, evaluating. Then he begins to unbutton his jeans.

“Urgh,” Merlin says, which might mean “what the hell” but most likely means “please, sir, may I.”  
The blond pauses, raising a brow. “Didn’t you want to see it?”

Intellectually Merlin knows “it” refers to his existing ink, but there’s a bit of randy devil in him that wishes “it” was Arthur’s other assets. “Um,” he manages, eyes wide.

Arthur blinks and he stops his hands at the top of his zipper. “I do beg your pardon. I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“No! Uh, no, I just can’t afford a sexual harassment suit,” Merlin babbles. “There’s paperwork, you know, and…”  
Arthur stands, fastening his pants. “Whatever makes you feel the most comfortable, Merlin.”

Oh bloody fucking hell, he mouths to himself as he trips through the doorway and scrambles for the consent forms and a pen. Arthur is waiting, resting back on his elbows and giving Merlin a heart attack. He’s not sure if Arthur is being seductive on purpose, but Merlin’s got one foot into bedlam as it is.

Arthur sits up and takes the paperwork. He scans through it, nods, and initials and signs in the proper places. Merlin takes it back and checks it quickly.

Then Arthur says: “I’m in your hands now.” He smirks when Merlin’s head comes up, and slowly leans back on his elbows again, shifting his hips up. Merlin can see he’s completely hard under the denim. Arthur’s smirking, and Merlin realizes that Arthur’s obliviousness is entirely false.

Merlin drops the papers to the floor in frustrated exasperation. “Oh, I am an absolute moron!” he cries and locks the door. He strides back, stares straight into Arthur’s blue eyes, grabs Arthur’s pants and opens them. He uncovers the tattoo first, the red heraldic dragon he’s looking for, crowned in gold; it’s worth staring at a little. Merlin leans in further and licks across the surface of the design. He pulls Arthur’s briefs out and down to reveal a truly magnificent stiff cock, and then tilts his head back so he can see Arthur’s expression.

The man’s blue eyes are sleepily half-mast and trained on him. There’s not an ounce of doubt, uncertainty, or even surprise. It’s a really good look on him; it always was. “What is this, a sure thing?” Merlin demands, calling up a bit of indignation at this scam artist.

Arthur’s smirk has dwindled to a smile. “The hour-long handshake was my first clue.”

Merlin pouts; he’s flushing from the embarrassment of being so obvious. Arthur had probably figured him out within a minute of meeting him.

“My god, the mouth on you,” Arthur groans, staring and chewing his own lips distractedly.  
Merlin squirms a bit, a flash of heat in his groin distracting him. He grins at this and leans in. Oh, no, my friend, he mentally chuckles. This mouth … on you. 

He hasn’t been in any sort of new relationship for years now. Lancelot is newly married in Wales and Gwaine is serving in the Royal Air Force, which has limited hookups to the random surprise leave the RAF deigns to measure out. Merlin’s half-heartedly dated, but he’s just not been thrilled by anyone since. He’s been spoiled by friendship and sex with two men whose love and devotion he is as sure of as the existence of the moon. Everyone else seems somehow dimmer and farther away, shades of what Merlin has had.

But he can’t forget how much he likes cock: its heat, its weight in his hand and in his mouth, the soft texture over rigidity, the smell and the taste. He’s a complete cockslut and he’s had a few years to accept this about himself after being teased about it enough at uni. He’s not hesitant at all; he’s got his fingers around Arthur in a moment, running his thumb along the underside in an appreciative sweep to circle the head. If this is his chance to make a favorable impression on Arthur, he has confidence in this, at least.

He’s startled when Arthur’s fingers slide gently through his hair, exploratory. It’s a good surprise. Merlin rewards it with taking Arthur down in one continuous slow slide; Arthur groans. Merlin slides off and looks up quickly, to catch the man’s reaction. Instead of the sleepy look, he’s favored with wide, awed blue eyes, clearly humbled by the experience. His ego is stroked by that look. “You were saying, about my mouth?” he asks.  
“Clearly, it was the insanity talking. Please, do … carry on…” 

Merlin grins. Most men are babbling at this point and desperately trying to get Merlin’s mouth back on them; Arthur’s relative composure if refreshing. Just to be a bastard, he takes his time exploring with his tongue before finally taking Arthur down again. The man’s fingers move through Merlin’s dark hair restlessly; Merlin likes to think Arthur is keeping himself from clutching and forcing. Very gentlemanly. 

Clutching and forcing had been one of his favorite parts with Gwaine, before, once they’d gotten to trust one another in this life. Lancelot had been too careful to try it, a bit too inhibited, to be honest. Merlin loves Lancelot, but the man reins himself in far too much, even when he needn’t. Merlin doesn’t rein himself in, and isn’t remotely inhibited when it comes to sex, as long as everyone’s having a good time.  
… and he’s having a great time. He’s hard from just sucking Arthur’s cock, listening to his soft groans and feeling his fingers twitch against his scalp. He wants to reach into his pants and join the party but that’s probably a bit too much too soon. Who knows what posh sensibilities Arthur’s acquired this time around. 

Then Arthur’s big hand cups Merlin’s jaw, his fingers gently pressed against his cheek to feel the movement of his cock inside. That’s it; Merlin’s opening his own flies and shoving his hand down. If Arthur wants to play with Merlin’s cock himself, he should keep his own bloody, sexy hands to his own bloody, sexy self.

“That’s it,” Arthur’s wrecked voice murmurs. “That’s it, eager. That’s perfect.”

Merlin thinks distractedly that if Arthur seems more affected by Merlin’s eagerness than anything else, at least that what’s Arthur’s tone indicates, and how sad is that, that Arthur doesn’t have a lineup of willing men to do this for him and his luscious cock? There should be churches dedicated just to Arthur’s sexy bits, and a whole religion for the man entire. Merlin would be his head-priest and get down on his knees every day. 

He wanks to the daydream of Arthur, crowned and seated on his throne, while Merlin prostrates himself and crawls slowly until he’s bobbing his head over …

Arthur, who has fallen mysteriously silent, tightens his fingers into Merlin’s hair in a sudden, convulsive movement. Merlin can guess what it means and so is surprised when Arthur tugs him off and up. Rising from his knees, he regretfully says goodbye to his newest friend, already wanting it back into his mouth, and glances up into intense blue eyes. 

Arthur grabs him by the back of the neck and kisses him, and it’s amazing: sloppy and surprisingly desperate. Merlin realizes that things have developed somewhat in reverse, but that concern seems to be obliterated by the intensity of what is happening now between them. Who cares if Merlin got to know Arthur’s penis before his mouth? His mouth is lovely, insistent, and distracting enough that Merlin slides his arms over Arthur’s bare shoulders without planning to. Arthur stands up from the ink-bed to line up their hips, and they’re rutting into each other, Arthur pushing Merlin’s trousers down and closing his hand on his waist to keep him in place. Their fingers tangle awkwardly, both trying position themselves together. Arthur, determined, slaps Merlin’s hand away and takes both of their cocks in a sure grip; they both groan as he jerks them both roughly, nothing elegant about it, but just the right side of rough and dominant that Merlin’s whole body lights up with it, so turned on he can’t make any decisions anymore except to hold on and ride it for all its worth. They’re panting into each other’s mouths as they sloppily kiss, but Merlin gives up and drops his face into Arthur’s shoulder, gasping against the warm, smooth skin there, at an unsuccessful attempt to muffle the whining sound he can’t seem to stop, this close to coming.

Arthur makes a deep, pleased sound. “That’s what you like, Merlin? Someone holding you, moving you, making you take it until you fall apart?” When Merlin, speechless, bites at his shoulder in retaliation, Arthur chuckles. “Look down, Merlin. Look down and see us.”

Merlin blinks and cranes his head down to obey, and his mouth drops open in a gasp. Arthur’s fist jerks up and down, and Merlin can see the two flared, glistening cockheads poking up and down in his hand, and on either side, the dragons on their hips almost graze each other – Arthur’s kingly Welsh red dragon, fierce and serpent-tongued. Merlin’s tattoo of two dragons, a red and a white, form a circle, their claws sinking into each other, their necks snaking and entwined. It’s deliberately ambiguous as to whether they’re fighting or mating.  
However, next to the aggressive stance of Arthur’s tattoo, they appear almost receptive and passive, and perfectly proportional with Arthur’s as if part of a set, although Merlin designed his own and he knows who designed Arthur’s. 

Merlin closes his eyes, shaking, as Arthur laughs softly in his ear. “Do you believe in destiny, Merlin?” he breathes, and bites lightly at his ear. He tightens his hand.

“Fuck me,” Merlin whines, and comes right then and there.

**Author's Note:**

> 2/3/2013: It's now a series, with actual chapters and... stuff! Thanks for the kudos and encouragement!  
> 6/24/2013: 100 KUDOS! You guys! *sniff*


End file.
